Before There Was John
by The Geek Enthusiast
Summary: Before there was John, there was Molly. This is a story of Sherlock's life before John and how he met Molly. (Note, this story is original, though it may seem similar to others. Consider it inspiration.) Rated T for drug references. I don't own Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Before there was John, there was Baker Street. Of course, Sherlock had lied to John when they first met; he wasn't interested in looking at a flat with him, he wanted John to see the flat that he was already living in. He wanted to lure him in with danger and excitement, which had strangely worked.

Baker Street was Sherlock's scared dwelling. Only a few people could see him, albeit against his wishes, such as his landlady and brother. At 221b, Sherlock would pace, think, and work on his cases. Sometimes he would play his violin, compose music, and sometimes when he was desperate for an ear, he would talk to his skull on the mantel.

In his darker times, Sherlock would become restless, either from an unsolvable case or a lack of a case. Sherlock would become bored and wreak havoc on a wall by shooting at it with a revolver. But when Sherlock was in the darkest of times, he would shoot up, just to clear his mind. The nicotine patches weren't always enough, and it was impossible to keep a smoking habit in London. Sherlock didn't like to indulge into alcohol because it would dull his mind. The mind is what he treasured most. He kept his mine sacred, much like Baker Street.

However, before there was Baker Street, there was Lestrade. Perhaps his only tolerable, ordinary friend. He was the best there was the the Yard. That man was patient, open-minded, fairly competent, and not as irritating as the rest of the officers. Lestrade was the person who gave Sherlock official cases. He even helped Sherlock during his darker times, the dangerous times. He gave Sherlock cases to help keep him busy and from getting bored.

But, before there was Lestrade, there was university. Sherlock attended Cambridge, mainly for its science programmes of study. At uni, Sherlock wasn't the person most people see him as today. He wasn't as insufferable and stubborn, but he was instead a great learner. He wanted to know about everything and how things worked. Sherlock was interested in the raw nature of life. He studied all sorts of things like maths, chemistry, biology, anatomy, geology, sensational literature, law, and botany. Perhaps one course he should have studied was sociology, but then again, he probably would have found it boring. Other than that, Sherlock liked to uncover the mysteries of life and debunk them. He, however hadn't planned on being a detective at the time.

So before being a detective, there was Molly Hooper. They first met at uni. She was an aspiring student whom was two years his junior and whom in fact was very bright. They met in an unconventional way, that being she clumsily bumped into him, only because she couldn't see over the stack of medical books she was carrying.

"Oh, oh! I am so, so, sorry. I should have been more careful," Molly said, spewing out apologies.

"No, no. It's quite alright... Molly," he said with a glint of recognition. "You're in my chemistry class, aren't you?" asked Sherlock hesitantly, while picking up her books. He had seen her around and observed her for awhile, but they never minded each other, in fact, she never noticed him. Sherlock is always noticed.

"Oh, are we in the same class together? I'm sorry, I guess I haven't ever noticed you before, um?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes," he said with a slight smile.

"Well, I'm so embarrassed. I've made a complete fool of myself, not minding where I'm going or whom I have class with," said Molly, red with embarrassment.

"Hmm, would you mind if we had coffee?" he asked on an impulse.

"Coffee?" asked Molly. Nobody had asked her for coffee before.

"Unless you mind, or you don't have time," he said. He usually didn't do this sort of thing, but for some reason he wanted to.

"Of course I mind–er, I mean I don't," Molly berated herself for her nervous stutter. "Yes, I have time. Coffee," she said smiling, "coffee would be nice actually."

Together they walked to the cafe on campus. Sherlock helped carry her books, which were surprisingly heavy.

Sherlock was not a socialite, at least not like his brother who used connections to his advantage. Sherlock was a lone student, who did his studies alone, his work alone, and spent most of his time alone. That isn't to say Sherlock was lonely. At uni, he did not dislike and push away people like he does now. He would just go about his business, not minding others. When it came to social events, Sherlock would sometimes attend out of curiosity, boredom, and reluctance. One time, Mycroft had scolded his younger brother into attending the university's events or join some sort of activity, like chess. Sherlock tried out some of the clubs, but only because Mycroft made him and not because he liked them. Although, he did secretly enjoy fencing and martial arts.

At the cafe, the duo didn't talk much. They both sat in silence for a few minutes while sipping their drinks. Sherlock ordered his coffee black with two sugars, and Molly ordered hers with cream, sugar, and a hint of hazelnut. Both were rather introverted, and it's hard for two introverted strangers to get to know each other.

"So, um Sherlock–"

"Mmm, yes?" She had been so quiet, he wondered if she'd ever speak.

"Um, what is it you're studying, what do you want to do exactly," she asked.

He took a moment to think. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm quite not sure what I want to do. I just know I like chemistry, studying life, the human complexion, and those sorts of things," he stated coolly. Not many people actually ask him what he wanted to do, most people just told him what to do. Mycroft wanted him to be a scientist while Mother wished him to be a philosopher. He has the mind of both, yet he hadn't elected what he desires yet.

"So, what makes you so interested in science and chemistry?" she asked.

"I like the mystery, the puzzles, the thrills; science, it's all so much fun, yet people don't understand that it can be an enjoyable art. People... people think of it as something more tedious and only necessary for finding solutions to problems," Sherlock stated as a matter of fact, then taking a sip of his coffee.

"I understand completely. I love it."

"Hmm, don't tell me. Let me guess, you want to be a surgeon. A surgeon guessing by your various medical books, your concentration, how hard you work, yet you don't become overwhelmed by it. You enjoy it, you find it relaxing. Also, you're very precise, by the way write and do laboratory assignments. Also, you don't let yourself become easily distracted, especially by people or friends, sorry for observing that, but it's clear you prefer to work alone. Judging by those qualities, you'd be very cut out for being a surgeon... no pun intended," he rattled off with a slight smugness.

"Hmm, I'm impressed Mr. Holmes. Perhaps you should become a detective rather than a scientist, or whatever it is.."

_Detective, hmmm. _"I'll take that into consideration Ms. Hooper. I haven't given detective work the slightest thought, however it sounds interesting. I can't remember the last time someone _suggested_ an idea to me instead of telling me. By the way, did I miss anything in that deduction?" He always missed something.

"Yes, just one thing. I want to be a pathologist," Molly replied meekly. People usually reply in disgust of someone wanting to work with the dead.

"Ah, I am impressed, Molly."

"Oh really? Working with the dead impresses you?"

"Women don't normally like working in mortuaries or with the dead for the fact of the matter. But what impresses me is that you value its importance, autopsies that is, and you're willing to go into that field of study. However, this brings me to ask, you look much younger than the other women in my class, how is it we are in the same level of chemistry together?"

"Well, I was placed into secondary school a year ahead because I tested above average. So I essentially had three years of secondary school, and I excelled in all of my courses my first year of uni, so I was placed into more advanced classes."

_She's very brilliant, much more than I had expect_, Sherlock mused. Much to his surprise, he had met someone he had things in common with. "A person with your high level of intellect and reverence for your education is not a common sight, but you, you would make an excellent mortician. You're very young in your career, yet you have a great deal of potential."

Molly gave a slight blush. No one had ever complemented her on her choice of career before. "Thank you, Sherlock. That means a lot," she said with a smile.

Then looking at her watch. "Aw, no. I really need to go," she said getting up. "I've got to get ready for an exam tomorrow morning. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sherlock. Thanks for the coffee," she said as she was out the door.

_Well that was rather abrupt,___Sherlock thought to himself, but he paid no mind to it. He had some thinking to do anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

First of all, I'd like to thank those who have read, followed, and reviewed my first chapter. It's exciting. This is my first fic and I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I am not at all British, though I write it (including the spelling of words) to make it seem more authentic. I know the school systems are different across the Pond, but I don't know at all how they work. I also know nothing of science, so I try to research as I write. One last thing, I know there are a few mistakes, but those will be fixed later on.

* * *

Chapter 2

Later that night in the dormitories, Sherlock laid in bed thinking. Mother would be proud of him for making and _initiating_ social contact. He couldn't understand why he talked to Molly... Ms. Molly Hooper. If that had been anyone else, he would have helped them with their books and been on his way. But, it had been Molly. Was he attracted to her? No, that's preposterous. However, Sherlock was in fact attracted to Molly in an intellectual way. Though their meeting was brief, she understood him somewhat. She is very intelligent, yet clumsy physically and socially.

Sherlock sighed to himself. He wasn't about to become distracted with her, but he wouldn't mind her friendship. _Friendship, what a ridiculous thing._Sherlock considered the benefits of befriending the young student. She wasn't like the other party girls at uni, she was a studious person who endeavored something most women would never do: to become a pathologist. That was one reason, but there were many more. Molly, much to Sherlock's surprise was much like himself. She too, loved the mysteries of science. Sherlock began to fall asleep thinking about it.

d(^_^)b

Away in her dormitory, Molly Hooper was studying hard for her biology exam the next morning. She had almost forgotten about her encounter with Sherlock until she felt sleepy and in need of another coffee. Caffeine was Molly's lifeblood, and when she didn't have it, she was dead. Putting aside her lecture notes, she leaned back in her chair for a moment and raised her feet up on the desk. She contemplated the day. Had she never really notice Sherlock before? _Hmm._ Molly wasn't into dating (mostly due to a few bad experiences), because she didn't like the distraction. She thought Sherlock to be rather attractive, but she didn't feel like she had developed a crush on him. Strangely for Molly, crushes did not happen instantaneously like for the other girls at uni. She would acknowledge their features and be about her business. Molly's mother would often ask Molly if she was asexual, and Molly would always reply, "Mother! I like men, I just don't want them." Dating was not her area.

Molly didn't care if she would befriend Sherlock, her career was the most important thing to focus on, yet she wouldn't object if they did become friends.

Once Molly was done with her mental break, she decided to skip the coffee and go to bed. It was late and staying up later would not make studying any easier.

d(^_^)b

The next morning, Molly was up early and ready for her biology exam. She tied her hair back, pulled on navy blue jumper and slipped some black trousers. She also had a pair of red flats. Molly tried to dress up every now and then, but appearances weren't a concern for her. This day on the other hand, aesthetics give her a boost of confidence, which she will need for testing. After loading up her book bag, Molly was out the door on her way to biology.

d(^_^)b

When Sherlock woke up, he showered, got dressed, and went into his mind palace. He

hadn't been inside it for quite some time and now he needed to do some dusting and rearranging.

Inside, he gave every person he considered important or noteworthy a room, Mycroft's was the largest. Now, his mind palace was like an ordinary house, or palace for that matter. When he entered, he first stepped into the entry room, where he kept things on the forefront of his mind, things like notes or reminders. The entry room was just a quick, temporary space. Next was the great room, a place to shove newly learned information until later dealt with. On one side of the great room was the kitchen. That was where he mind feed off of ideas or when he needed to feed off of them. Sometimes he'd dig up a memory and relish it. On the other side of the great room was the study area. This is the area Sherlock would use to prepare for exams. The Mind Palace also had an upstairs, where all of the bedrooms and closets were, and an attic. The attic was for the people and memories he moved out of the bedrooms and left them to be forgotten about, but with the potential of coming up again later in life. In a sense, these people had become less important, so much so they don't get a room in the mind palace.

Of course, when there's an above, there's a below. Sherlock had a basement. The basement was for the things he intentionally wanted to forget or not deal with. It contained the darker things of his soul. However, below basement was the vault. Inside contained his emotions, fears, and deepest feelings. This is where he caged his soul and his demons. This wasn't the only purpose for the vault though, inside was also dirty information on people, like his brother for example, but he wouldn't ever use it.

*bzz! bzz!*

Sherlock was suddenly drawn out of his palace by the hum of his mobile.

_Reminder: Phone Mother._

Sherlock sighed in lament. Of course he didn't need to set reminders, but he knew he would _forget_ to ring mum. Whenever he would ring her, she would talk for centuries about the things her and father were doing. Sometimes it was about their vacation, sometimes it was their dance classes, and sometimes it was just to give Sherlock a hard time about his life choices. Recently, due to Sherlock's indecision of career, Mother was not so pleased with him. Father, on the other hand, couldn't care less.

For a few moments, Sherlock thought about mum, but knew he had anatomy soon and needed to get a move on. He would have to ring her later.

Once Sherlock arrived at class, he prepared himself for lecture. Lecture would be incredibly dull when the professor would talk about irrelevant things, but when on topic, Sherlock loved to soak in the information. What he loved more were the lab assignments; actually performing a dissection or experiment was always the most fun.

d(^_^)b

As midday approached, stomachs of the many Cambridge students growled. The lunch period was always hectic in the canteen where people were talking, stuffing their mouths, and getting up and sitting down. Sherlock never liked the canteen because it was too noisy and there were too many people. Yet, being amongst other people gave him a chance to observe and deduce them.

Deducing people was a trait that actually came from Mother. Though her skills were rudimentary, and less refined compared to Sherlock and Mycroft's, she had taught her boys to always be observant, especially of other people. Mother taught them to learn about other people, understand what and how they think.

So after the many years of refining his deduction skill, Sherlock applied it to the students of Cambridge everyday in the canteen for his own amusement.

_The tall blonde is studying theatre, going by her flamboyancy. Her speech is dramatic, perhaps still in character from practice. Shakespeare?_

_The man with dark hair is studying economics and finance, telling by his wristwatch. A banker most likely. He certainly dresses the part, all suave and charismatic._

Looking around the canteen he saw another person who seemed familiar, yet her face was turned away from him.

_In the food queue is a young woman with chestnut hair. She keeps it tied back, perhaps to keep it out of the way. She doesn't care too much for appearances due her clothes. They seem worn, meaning she isn't wealthy or doesn't shop often to keep up with fashion, but those clothes are dressier than she'd usually wear only going by the state of her composure, slightly graceless and not to impress. She doesn't dress for others, so it must be for herself. _Just then she turned around with her tray of food. _Molly?_

As Sherlock observed her, he saw her sit down at a table away from a window by herself. It was a small table however, so she wasn't expecting company. _Ah, _he thought. _Today was the day for her exam. She won't let herself become distracted. Her clothes are symbolic of her low self-esteem: feeling like she needs to dress well to do well. Wait, the way she's eating is normal, relaxed. She must've taken her exam already. Hmm._

Once lunchtime was over, campus began to settle down. Sherlock only had two more classes for the day: literature and chemistry. He now thought it best to phone mum on his way to class, that way he didn't have to talk to her for long and he could still check in on her.

*ring... ring*

"Sherlock! It's about time you've phoned your mother. I've been waiting hours to hear from you."

"Yes, mother. About that, I only have a small window of time to talk," he said walking towards his respected hall. "I was occupied earlier, so that's why I couldn't ring you up," he lied. "And I won't have time later because of an experiment I have for class," he lied again.

His mother sighed. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you think for one second that I cannot tell that you're lying to me, then I don't know what I'm to do with you. Why is it so difficult to talk to your mother?"

"Mum, let's just move ahead. How are you and father?"

"You father is fine, he's taken up gardening now. Who knows what the man will do next. I, on the other hand am displeased that you don't phone me more often," she said exasperated.

Sherlock was almost to class already. "Well mother, I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Oh dear Sherlock, I really hope you mean that. I love you."

"Of course I do, mother. I love you too."

Once Sherlock had finished his weekly chat with his mother, he stepped inside and went to class.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chemistry class. It happened to be the last class of the day for both Sherlock and Molly. It was a class where knowledge could be put into application through experiments.

"Alright everyone, before we get started on today's lab assignment, I want to go over the precautions and guidelines. I know I prefer each student to work alone and perform his or her task fully, but this assignment will require at least two people."

At the sound of that, Sherlock inwardly grumbled. He didn't like doing group projects because other students would get in the way, or would in fact rely on him to give them the answers. But he suddenly remembered of his not-so-new acquaintance. Looking about the room he tried to spot Molly, but it was difficult in a room of thirty students.

"...make sure you and your partner get along, don't make me break you up..."

Sherlock almost gave up trying to spot her after a few moments. That was, until then someone tapped him on the back. He turned around and it happened to be Molly.

"Hi, um, Sherlock. I normally don't like working with people, but since I sorta know you out of the rest of these students, I was wondering if we could be partners?"

He smiled at her, "Yes, of course. I don't like working with other people either, but you can be the exception."

"...make sure you beakers are aligned and labeled just right..." the professor drawled on. Before every lab assignment, the professor always went over the same guidelines. Sherlock was impatient to get started.

"...and make sure that your partner is ready. If so, you may begin," said the professor.

"Right, are you ready?" asked Molly with her safety goggles on.

"Absolutely," replied Sherlock donning his pair of goggles.

d(^_^)b

Chemistry class that day had actually been enjoyable for both Sherlock and Molly. It was a nice change to work with someone of like-mindedness. Also, to Sherlock's glee, Molly didn't get in the way or rely on him, but instead did her part more so than anyone else would.

When the duo had completed the assignment and class was over, they both went their separate ways. Molly was going back to her dorm and Sherlock had a sparring match to attend to.

Every week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, evening sparring matches were held by Cambridge's Judo Club and Karate Club, in which Sherlock was a member of both. Every week a new lesson was taught. The students would learn the new lesson and they could come back during the evenings to extra practice or for fun. For Sherlock, learning martial arts was something he enjoyed. It also kept him physically fit and agile. Self defense was something often overlooked in life, moreover, he wasn't sure when it might come in handy.

At today's sparring match, a bloke called Winston would be his opponent. Sherlock and Winston liked sparring with each other, because they both thought of the other as a worth opponent. Winston was slightly taller and stronger than Sherlock, but not as quick.

Before their match, they went into the locker room to get changed into white kimonos. Sherlock's judo robe was much his karate robe, minus the colored belt.

Sherlock walked over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.

"So Sherly, any particular move you want to practice?" called Winston from the other side of the locker room."

"The Harai Goshi and the Osoto Otoshi. But, don't think I'm going to go easy on you," replied Sherlock in the mirror with a smirk.

"Whatever mate. You know I'd pin you down when you easy on me. I dunnit before," said Winston with a haughty laugh.

Sherlock snorts while turning around to look at Winston. "It won't happen again. Just because you've got more brawn doesn't mean you've got more brains."

"You can't deduce me during a match, mate. Not always. You think in the real world, if someone was gonna attack you, you'd be able to figure out their every move?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Perhaps not, Winston. When one's in a fight, one doesn't always have time to think. Nevertheless, why do you think I'm taking judo and karate? To prepare myself, in the event if I'm ever attacked."

Winston brought his hand up and patted Sherlock on the shoulder. "Of course, mate. You ready?"

"Born ready," Sherlock said with the quirk of the lips.

When to two set out to the mat, they entered a painted circle. Together they look at each other and bowed.

"Go!" shouted the referee .

The two got into their stances.

d(^_^)b

"I told you mate, you can't always deduce me! Mind you, I am good at poker. We should play this weekend," said a smug Winston.

"Oh stop it. You won only because I couldn't lift you," a defeated Sherlock retorted. "Yet, you are the only opponent who has been able to beat me. Don't let that get head."

"It never does. Know me brawn and no brain! So what about poker? Think I could beat you at that too?"

"Eh, no. I have a much better poker face than you, Winston. Just name the time and I'll be there."

"Say, seven o' clock on Friday. Unless you want to do a match then."

"Nah, fencing meets on Friday. I have to balance my attendance between sparring and fencing. Is Saturday no good for you?"

"Well, me mates were gonna kickback."

"Why not invite them to poker?"

"You kiddin' me? All of them would fold and it'd be just you and me."

"What if I brought lager?"

"Deal, mate. I'll phone 'em up!"

With that, they parted and went their separate ways. Winston wasn't the brightest, but Sherlock liked him anyway. He wouldn't say he was friends with him, but good colleagues. Winston was an all around good bloke who wasn't ever insulted by Sherlock's intelligence.

As soon as Winston was back in his dormitory, he rang his friends for poker.

*ring, ring*

"_Hello?"_

"Oi! Daniel, mate! Change of plans. There's gonna be a poker game at my place. Seven o' clock on Saturday. I got a mate bringing beer."

"_Who?"_

"His name is Sherlock Holmes, an oddball I spar with, but he's real cool. I challenged him to poker, see if I'd beat him."

"_Okay, Winny. I'm in."_

"Sweet, mate. Be sure to bring Donny, Sam, Seb, and Ben."

"_Sure will, mate."_

Winston hung up his mobile with glee. He's getting the gang, and Sherlock, to play poker. Plus, there was free booze. What a great weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey! This chapter is a bit longer. I hope you enjoy. Also, thanks for those who read, follow, favorite, and review!

* * *

Chapter 4

**Saturday.**

Winston quickly cleaned up his dorm room. He shoved some clothes into a hamper, piled books on top of his desk, and took out the trash bin.

His room was adjoined with two other dorm rooms, where his roommates lived. Their rooms were connected to a sitting room/kitchen and there was bathroom off of the sitting room.

In the kitchen, Winston cleared off the breakfast table, by piling the dishes in the sink, and brought some chairs over. Since his mates and Sherlock were staying in, he thought it'd be a good idea to invite his roommates as well, seeing that would be rude to have guests over in their shared dorm without them being invited.

Once he got that done, he looked at the digital clock on the microwave, which read _10:00. _So Winston had the rest of the day to relax.

d(^_^)b

Molly didn't do much during the weekend, other than homework or chores. She had a private dormitory, so she didn't have to worry about hungover roommates or her stuff being stolen. Her room was her own.

There was a laundry facility in the lobby of her dorm. So Molly grabbed her hamper of dirty clothes and went downstairs to the lobby.

"Morning, Molly," said Alice, her neighbor from across the hall.

"Morning," replied Molly with a yawn.

"Laundry day," they both said in unison.

Every Saturday, Alice and Molly would both be doing their laundry around the same time in the morning.

"How are you doing, Molls?" asked Alice.

"Pretty good at the mo. Class is class, you know?"

"Innit always?" she asked with a giggle.

"Yep."

"So, Molls, I'm going to have a girls night out, with my girlfriends, I was wondering if you'd like to join us? I know you don't like to party or do much, but you look like you could use some time out in the world."

"Hmm. Does that mean I have to wear heels and a party dress?"

"Haha. You can still dress up without having to wear a dress y'know."

Molly thought for a bit. She hadn't socialised in weeks, and she'd refused so many of Alice's offers, it'd be rude to not go. "Oh, sure why not. Just this once."

"Yay!" Alice squealed with arms wide open "I'll pick you up around seven?" she asked, hugging Molly.

"Sure," Molly replied while in the awkward hug.

d(^_^)b

**19:00**

"Me mates! Come in. I hope you don't mind, I've invited me roommates, Daryl and Paul," said Winston welcoming his friends in.

"No at all, Winny," said Daniel with a smile.

Winston directed his friends to the breakfast table. At the table sat Sherlock. "Ah, everyone, this is Sherlock Holmes. He's a genius, but he brought beer."

"Yay!" everyone cheered in unison. They all sat down and grabbed a can of lager.

"Sherlock, this is Daniel Johnson," he said pointing to the short blond. "And this one, Sebastian Wilkes, he's the ladies man and a posh one. You'll never catch him without a blingy watch or snazzy tie on.

Sherlock recognised Sebastian as the man he had deduced in the canteen the other day. Sebastian had a warm, charismatic smile, but that smile hid something else underneath. Sherlock wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

"Here is Donny Burke," Winston said addressing a gingered bloke. "This is Sam Denver," he said patting him on the back. Sam wore white rimmed glasses. "Lastly, here is Ben Carlton. Now, on to me roommates. The fat one,–

"Hey!" retorted his roommate.

"He's Miles Davis. And the skinny one is Davy Miller."

"Well," Sherlock finally said after the introductions, "how lovely to meet you all."

With that, they cracked their cans, "Cheers, mates!" they all said and began.

d(^_^)b

Molly never went out. Well, almost over. Molly didn't like to drink because it would fuddle with her mind. She liked to be in control of her body, since it was her way of transport. Moreover, studying to be a pathologist, Molly had seen the many ways people have died from intoxication. Tonight however, Molly had no plans on dying. In fact, she had no plans until Alice asked her out.

*knock, knock*

"_Molly, it's Alice," _she said muffled through the door. _"Are you ready?"_

Molly walked out of the bathroom to her door. "I'm almost ready," she said opening the door. "Remember Alice, I don't usually do these things–"

"Molly! I love your dress!" she exclaimed, pointing at Molly. "Y'know, I used to think you couldn't dress well. But forgive me, you can on certain days," Alice said with a wink.

Molly had on an emerald green party dress with thin spaghetti straps and she was wearing black stockings. Where would have she bought something like that? Molly had one party dress, but only for an occasion like this.

"Thanks Alice, but don't get too excited. This is my only party dress. As I've said before–"

"You don't usually do these things," Alice finished for her. "I know, you don't have to usually do these things, Molly, just sometimes. It's okay to have fun."

"You're right. Let me finish my makeup," Molly said walking back into the bathroom. Molly put on a little bit of foundation, blush, black eyeliner, and some green eyeshadow to go with her dress. She also had decided to leave her hair down as well.

"Hey, I thought you didn't like wearing dresses"? asked Alice from the other room.

"Why do you think this is my only party dress?" Molly replied with a laugh.

"Next weekend, we should go shopping. I know this great shoe shop. The have a lovely Italian leather selection. Oh! And there is a sweet shop across from it. Oh boy, they make the best cakes–

Molly had stepped out of the bathroom. "Molly! Girlfriend, come here. You look fantastic. We do need to go out more often."

Molly gave a slight blush at the compliment. She then slipped on some red flats and a grey peacoat.

"I'm ready," she said grabbing her purse.

d(^_^)b

"Fold."

"Bollocks. Me too."

"It looks like it's just us three," said Seb. Everyone, whom had moved to the sofa to watch telly, had lost except for Sherlock, Winston, and Sebastian. Much to Sherlock's surprise, Winston did in fact have a good poker face. And to a much greater surprise, Sebastian was just as good. He could see why Sebastian would go into business and banking. If one is to make in a big city, such as London, one must know how to play his cards right.

"So, who's it gonna be? Who's gonna fold. Who's bluffing?"

"Well Winston, I don't intend to lose another match to you."

"Ha, that's what you said at our last sparring match. And you lost," a smug Winston said pointing at him.

"Winston, this Sherlock Holmes might just be the best poker player I've met. Do ring me when you wish to play again."

"Okay, here's how this is going to go. I'm going to call both of your bluffs and win."

Winston snorted. "Whatever mate. Are you going to try and deduce me while playing cards?"

"Winston, I've deduce you before. There isn't much more to read. Sebastian, on the other hand..."

d(^_^)b

"Molly, this is Grace Thatcher, and Valentine Clemens. Everyone, this is Molly Hooper. She's my neighbor, also she doesn't get out much, so be nice. Oh! I almost forgot, just to break the ice, don't judge her choice of career. He wants to be a mortician, which is totally badass."

Molly blushed again. "Thanks, Alice." Everyone was nice and no one said anything about Molly's study.

"Okay girls, let's grab din dins and hit the club!" exclaimed Alice.

_Oh my goodness, what have I gotten myself into this time? _Molly asked herself.

d(^_^)b

**21:30**

"Ahh! Stop it! Ahha. I cannot take it anymore!" cried Seb. "You are amazing. Can you really tell who've been shagging the night before?" Seb was about to die of laughter.

"Or course I can, not matter how discretely a _couple_ may seem the next morning, there are always tell-tale signs."

"Haha! My goodness, Sherlock. You're hilarious, but accurate, especially that of my career choice. Yes, I plan on becoming a banker. My grandfather was a stockbroker, my father was a businessman, my uncle was an advertiser, and me, well it's about time someone went into banking."

"I, fold," said Winston. "Sherlock, you've beaten me, but just this once!"

Surprisingly, Sebastian wasn't broken to bits but Sherlock's deduction. Perhaps that was because Sherlock hadn't figured out Sebastian's secret yet. But, even if he had, Sherlock still had some modesty to not embarrass Winston. So, will Sherlock win poker night? The duo became serious and stared at each other.

"Go on, Sherlock, is your hand better than mine?"

Sherlock laid his hand of cards down on the table. Winston had looked up from his can of lager with wide eyes. It had been a straight flush.

"There you go," said Sherlock with a smug grin.

"Ah, I am impressed, but, not disappointed, for I have won!"

"What?" asked Sherlock. He then saw Seb lay down his cards.

"A royal flush, my friend. Good game, we must play again," said Seb.

Sherlock frowned, "Well now, I am rather impressed that you have a surpassingly good poker face. Make sure you use it to your advantage in life. Congratulations on the win."

"Maybe we should have actually placed bets," said Winston.

"But you would have lost anyway, Winston," said Sherlock.

"No, I meant who would win poker between us three. It's been an interesting game, boys. Anyone want to go to the club? I could use some more interesting."

"To the club, Winny? Since when have you liked clubs?" asked Seb, taking a sip of beer.

"Since when have you been apposed Mr. Posh? Cambridge has some nice clubs."

"I've never been opposed. In fact, I'm all in. It's almost ten o' clock, I don't see why not."

"What? What are we doing?" asked Daniel.

"Apparently, we are going clubbing," replied Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you don't have to go with us if you don't want. I know you don't like going out."

"No, it's alright. I'll go. I'm interested as to see what more this night may bring."

"Oi! Roomies, do you want to come with us to the clubs?"

"Oh boy, clubs aren't really my scene Winston. Thanks though," said Paul.

"What about you, Daryl?"

"Yeah, I'm with Paul. I think I'm just gonna turn in for the night. Thanks for poker," said Daryl walking into his bedroom.

d(^_^)b

**22:00**

"That was not a dinner I was expecting," said Molly. "Why did it take so long?"

"Oh dear, Molly. We treat ourselves to a fancy dinner every now and then," said Valentine. "It usually doesn't take that long, but if the waiter hadn't taken flirted so much with Grace and messed up her order, then we could have been out of there an hour earlier."

"It's not my fault if he thought I was pretty, which I am. So are we going to La Raza now? I can't wait!" exclaimed Grace.

"Yes, yes. We are going. Grace, hail a cab, would you?" asked Alice.

"What's La Raza?" asked Molly. "I've never been."

"La Raza is a hot club, but it's also a restaurant and pub. They have the best live music, Molly! You've love it."

"Okay, if you say so Alice," Molly said hesitantly.

"Seriously, Molly, it's so much fun. You can dance, meet people, and hear great music! One time, I met my boyfriend in La Raza, well ex-boyfriend. Point is, La Raza is a great club," said Valentine smiling.

"Is it your favourite club?"

"Oh, it's all of ours, Molly!" replied Alice.

"Hey girls! The cab is here. Hop in."

"Okie dokie," said Molly. _Tonight will be interesting, _she thought to herself as she stepped into the cab.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading. I realized that I had made a few mistakes time-wise. One being Sherlock's phone sending him reminders, that technology wouldn't have been around when he was in college (It was, just not prominent). I figure it could have been around the year 2000 or late 90s. Another mistake is the club, La Raza, which is still around today. I don't know it it was around or the same back then. However, I'll keep these changes, as they don't affect the story. When I beta the story, I'll change those mistakes. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 5

"C'mon mates! The best club in town awaits us!" exclaimed Seb walking ahead of the group.

Winston stopped and turned around to face a sulky Sherlock. "Sherlock, man. Clubs are fun, so put a smile on your face. Girls love smiles."

"Why would I care what the girls think?"

"'Cause you might _fancy_ a girl?"

"Ehh, dating is not really my area, Winston."

"Who said anything about dating? I'm talking about a good shag."

Sherlock suddenly slowed his pace, frowning at the mention of something so trivial. Sex was certainly _not _his area and he was certainly not wanting or in need of any. Sex was so carnal, physical, and it did not help the mind to cloud it with hormones. Romance, sex, it was all chemical, really.

When the group entered La Raza, they immediately saw how alive the club was. On one side of the club was the restaurant and pub and on the other was a stage with the DJ. Usually La Raza had a live band play, but tonight was Boogie Night. Boogie Nights were always the most busy, crazy nights for La Raza. On stage, the lights were flashing, the music was cranked, and they had even turned on the fog machine.

"Right, boys, this is what I'm talking about!" said Winston.

"Anyone want to be my wingman tonight?" asked Ben.

"No way man, it's every bloke from themselves," replied Donny.

Ben tried to be the casanova of the group, but oftentimes he failed at being such. Sebastian was smoother with the ladies than Ben, mostly because of he was posh and charismatic. Whenever Ben wanted to go to the local pub or a club, he and Donny would usually tag team being each other's wingman, this night however, nobody cared enough about charming the ladies, they just wanted the ladies, booze, and music. It was party night.

d(^_^)b

"Is the music always this loud here?" shouted Molly to Alice.

"What?" she shouted back in reply.

"Come on," Molly said while dragging Alice into the restaurant part of the club. Molly likes music, even pop music, but not when it's so loud aliens from another galaxy could hear them.

"Molly, what's wrong? Why are we here at the bar? You don't want to start with the drinks now, do you?"

"No! No, no, no. It isn't that. It's just really loud and I can't talk to you."

"That's alright Molls, we can dance, take a break, and go back. Unless you want a drink now, just to loosen up?"

"Eh, I'll loosen up by dancing. Thanks, Alice," Molly said with a hesitant smile. Molly can dance, but it isn't like she'd want everyone to see her getting down. So, Molly thought it best to take it easy.

"Hey, there you two are!" called Rebecca. "Are we drinking now? I hadn't planned for this yet."

"Oh, no Bec, not yet. We're gonna dance!" said Alice.

"Right! Let's go!" said Rebecca, pulling Molly and Alice by the arms."

_What have I gotten myself into?_ Molly asked herself again.

The girls finally got together in a group to dance. They position themselves close to the stage on the far end, so they weren't in the mosh pit of the room.

"Oh I love this song!" said Grace. "Molly, you can dance! I don't understand why you think you're so terrible."

"I'm just self-conscious, that's all," she said.

"What? I can't hear you!" Grace said in vain, only being drowned out by the music. The tempo was fast, but the rhythm was smooth. The fog machine was on at full blast, which made it difficult to see, but it changed the atmosphere in that people could dance with mild privacy. This was something Molly appreciated.

d(^_^)b

At the bar, Seb ordered himself a pint to loosen up a bit, while the others, sans Sherlock, went to dance.

"Do you not like to dance, Sebastian?" asked Sherlock sitting down on a stool next to Seb.

Seb, sipped his beer. "I do, although I'd prefer not be very sober. I take it you dislike dancing, Mister Enigmatic?" he asked turning to Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned at the not-so-endearing term, but brushed it off. "Well, I'll let you in on something most people don't know," said Sherlock. Seeing as Sebastian was good at keeping secrets, Sherlock figured he could trust Seb with this one.

Seb, sipping his beer, raised his eyebrows. "Well? What is it, man? What is this dirty little secret?" he asked like a teenage girl who loves to gossip.

Sherlock sighed and leaned in closer. "I actually love dancing. Dancing of all sorts," he said with a bashful smile. "Formal, exotic, improvised, it's just one of the few things I love."

"Ah! I see, man," Seb said with a smile and laugh. He took a final sip and asked "Shall we go indulge that love of yours?"

"I don't see why not, but please, keep this secret between us?"

"Sherlock, mate. That isn't a problem, however, I'm sure everyone and the whole lot will see you dance without a care," Seb said with a wink, patting Sherlock on the back.

The two left the bar area and went over close to the stage. It was dense with faux fog, but particles of refracted light filled the cloud. Music filled Sherlock's ears and a feeling began to come over him: dance.

Sherlock avoided the middle of the room, where he saw young women and men dancing up on each other, as if they couldn't get close enough. Dancing, he could do, but having a woman's, or a man's hands on him, he could do without. He tried to find Winston, but he and the others were probably lost in the massé. He moved with a bounce in his step over to Seb. Sherlock didn't know anyone in La Raza, except for the group of lads, so dancing in front of them wasn't a concern of his. The next song was a pop classic and Sherlock began to get into the groove. He let the rhythm fill his arms and legs and Sherlock began to "let loose" as they say.

Probably after fifteen minutes, the club began to heat up from all of the bodies in the room. People were dancing harder and a little bit more intoxicated. Even the DJ seemed to be less sober than before. Sherlock would have kept dancing until his legs began to hurt, at least that was what he thought, until his side began to hurt first.

"Ow!" Sherlock said in pain. Someone had jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. He was about to let that person have it, until he turned around. "Molly?" he asked as almost a statement.

Molly turned around with great surprise in her eyes. "Sherlock?" she yelled.


	6. Chapter 6

I do apologize about the wait. I had meant to post this sooner, but I couldn't get the website to work. On another note, I'm working on some other fics and I'm also beta-ing the "Before There Was John" story.

* * *

Chapter 6

Molly felt completely surprised and somewhat suspicious. Though she hadn't known Sherlock for very long or known him very well, she knew that Sherlock wasn't in his natural element. Seeing him in a club, dancing... _What? _Molly asked herself.

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" she shouted, but only to be drowned out by the music. "Did you– Did you follow me?"

"What?" he shouted back. "It's really loud in here, I can't–"

"Urrgh." Exasperated, Molly grabbed Sherlock by the arm and lead him away from the horde of people toward the lavatories. There the music wasn't as loud and she could at least get away from the heat and smoke.

"Molly, I'm surprised to see you here. I wouldn't have guessed you to be a party person."

"Did you follow me, Sherlock? Why are you here?"

"I'm here with colleagues of mine, though clubbing isn't exactly how I thought this night would turn out. And no, I'm not following you. Why would you think that?" he asked furrowing his brow. "For a moment, I would've thought you were following me. However, judging by the forming bruise on my ribs, you did not expect me to be here."

"I see, small world I guess. I'm sorry about your ribs, Sherlock. I'm here with my friends– well my neighbour and her friends. It's just, I got convinced to come on a girl's night out," she said with an eye roll.

Sherlock nodded in knowing what she mean.

They both paused, looking out into the crowd of people dancing. The fog was thick, the music was loud, alcohol and cigarettes could be smelled, but it didn't really bother anyone there.

"Look at us, Sherlock. Two people out of our area, yet we meet in it."

"Indeed," he said in reply. He glanced at Molly and then back at the people. After inhaling deeply he asked, "Care to leave this place for some fresh air?"

"Yes, please," Molly said grabbing her coat. Together they left their respected groups and walked towards the pub door.

As Sherlock opened the door for her, he could feel his sore ribs. "You really do need to work on your dancing skills, Molly. Who knows, you could be deadly if you ever did a waltz, or a tango... maybe even swing–"

"Alright, Sherlock! I get it!" she said, face reddened, as she walked out the door.

"I just don't understand how you can lack so much grace, yet you've got the hands of a skilled surgeon. I would've figured you ballet person or such, but after what I saw... felt... I could be wrong," he said walking along with sidewalk.

"Hey now!" she said, somewhat playfully. Molly knew she wasn't the best dancer, but dancing wasn't her forte, so she lightly punch Sherlock in the ribs for that.

"Ow!" He stopped and put a hand to his injured side.

"As a matter of fact, Sherlock. I took ballet lessons when I was young, but only because my mother made me. I do like dancing, but it's certainly something I don't do often, or around people." Molly then continued walking.

"Around other people, I can understand. They might have been mortally wounded," Sherlock said with a laugh, but soon regretted it, seeing as Molly was about to punch him again."

"Stop acting like such a child, it's just a minor bruise. It could be a major one if you keep on insulting my dancing. Speaking of which, since when do you dance? I find he hard that you, of all people were so easily convinced to go clubbing." Molly asked.

Sherlock stopped. He had forgotten that she saw him dancing, well before he had been elbowed, and now she knew one of his not-so-guilty pleasures. Sherlock loves dancing, but dancing is so human. People might think him to be more akin to them if he were to express any passion.

"Alright, Molly. Keep a secret?" he asked. She nodded her head in wonderment of what it could possibly be. "I enjoy dancing very much, but only few people know about it and I plan to keep it that way."

"Yeah, sure thing," she said with a smug smile. This could be used as leverage for some future situation.

The duo kept walking into the night. The air was just a little chilly, but not unbearable. The moon was visible over the town, illuminating the sky and the nearby clouds. Molly and Sherlock continued to chat about each other's day. When they had rounded a corner, they realised that it was nearing one o' clock in the morning and was past late to return. So they both headed back towards the club.

"I bet the girls are wondering where I am, if they aren't already preoccupied with someone or completely inebriated."

"Yes, I should guess my group might be doing the same, but most likely the latter."

Molly kept walking, not exactly looking excited to be back at the club. If she was right in saying her group was indeed intoxicated, they most likely would have forgotten about each other. She wouldn't want to be the one who throws them into a cab to get them home.

"Molly, I think I'm right in saying that neither of us want to resume our nights with our respect parties, hm?" he asked.

"Right you are."

"Share a cab back to uni?"

Molly smiled, "Yes, please!"

d(^_^)b

It was almost two in the morning when Molly and Sherlock split ways to their dormitories. Molly was exhausted after having a "girl's night out" and was ready to take a nice hot shower to wash off the night and ease her muscles. Though she hadn't had anything to drink, she still smelled of beer and cigarettes; that was a side affect from clubbing. If she had come home to her mother, she would've been grounded. Though, she wasn't a young teenager any more, she was a responsible adult who knew when to not over do it.

Molly placed her peacoat on the coat hanger walked over to her bed. She tossed her purse down and toed off her flats. She turned to a mirror and looked down at her emerald green dress. It really was a gorgeous dress, one for special occasions. He found it at an H&amp;M and thought it would do nicely in her wardrobe. Molly wasn't really a person of style or flair when it came to fashion, but occasionally she had her tasteful moments.

She stripped off her dress and hung it on the coat rack. The dress would have to be dry-cleaned. Molly then went into the bathroom and started the shower water. After a long night, this was exactly what she needed.

d(^_^)b

When Sherlock arrived at the door of his dorm room, he wanted to sleep. His body screamed for rest, yet Sherlock couldn't bring himself to it just yet, he needed to go to his mind palace. Today had been a full day and he had a lot to categorise: the poker game, friends of Winston, Sebastian Wilkes, the club, and Molly. Molly Hooper. The young girl on her way to becoming a pathologist, whom he happened to bump into. Well, more like she bumped into him. Sherlock never paid much mind to Molly, considering he often kept a distance from people, yet tonight she was surrounded by people, completely unlike her, and she saw him. He was a person who preferred to stay away from parting and people, however he had been roped into it only because his sparring partner had urged him to do so. Now reflecting upon that, it's the exact same thing that happened to Molly. She had been dragged into a "girls night out" and she was out of her area, though, to anyone else's eyes, they wouldn't have noticed. She looked like a pretty young girl trying to have some fun, but Sherlock saw it as a woman who tried to please others for their sake more than her own.

Sherlock pondered for a moment and realised that he was still outside his door. Reaching into his coat pocket, he fetched his key and went inside. The room was dark, but he didn't bother to turn the light on. The moon light from the window illuminated the room enough to where he could see his bed. Sherlock locked the door, took off his coat. _What an interesting night, _he thought, walking towards the bed. He couldn't understand it, there was something about Molly, something about her that intrigued him. He couldn't figure out why such a plain, ordinary girl had caught his interest. Perhaps she wasn't ordinary, considering she was intellectually above average and that she wanted to be a pathologist. Though after much thought, he deduced that he saw much of himself in that young woman, or perhaps he was much like her. He preferred to be the former rather than the latter, though.

Now lying on the bed, Sherlock wrapped the duvet around him and went into his mind palace. He didn't do this every often, but he created a new room. Molly would be moving in.


End file.
